


Even the Stars

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: tumblr ficlets [86]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: But mostly fluff, Cuddling, Human AU, Kidfic, Light Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Pre-Relationship, in the sense that they are children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 08:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20150458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Aziraphale has a nightmare.





	Even the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> For the sentence prompt: "I had a bad dream. Is it okay if I sleep here?"

Anthony Crowley opened his eyes into darkness, frowning up at the glow-in-the-dark stars covering his ceiling. He turned onto his side, using one arm to prop himself upright as he squinted in the direction of the doorway, where the sound that had disturbed his sleep had come from. Clinging to the doorframe, ringed in a halo of light from the hallway lamp, stood Aziraphale. He clutched a large, fluffy blanket to his chest, and his mass of curls spilled messily onto his forehead as he blinked big, blue eyes at Crowley.

“I had a bad dream,” Aziraphale mumbled, scuffing at the floor with a bare foot. “Is it okay if I sleep in here?”

Wordlessly, Crowley shoved back the blankets. Aziraphale brightened, closing the door behind him and plunging the bedroom back into darkness. He hauled himself up onto Crowley’s bed, snuggling happily under the blanket he’d brought.

Crowley turned onto his back again. It wasn’t the first time Aziraphale had climbed into bed with him. They’d been friends their entire lives – _six whole years_, practically an eternity. He had been the one to give Aziraphale his nickname, when as a toddler he’d insisted on mispronouncing the entirety of “Ezra Fell” every time he’d asked for his friend. Aziraphale had been the one to stand in front of Crowley on the playground, waving a stick threateningly at the boys who’d pushed Crowley down and made mocking comments about his inquisitive nature. Aziraphale had never teased him about his eye condition or his tendency to lisp. Whenever Crowley had a question, Aziraphale would take out one of the big, impressive books his parents kept in the house, and he would try to find the answer, his tongue between his teeth and his brow furrowed as he did his best to sound out the words. Aziraphale picked flowers because he knew Crowley liked them, and Crowley would wear them tucked into his hair for the rest of the day. Their parents hated each other, but they could not separate them if they’d tried.

Crowley liked it when Aziraphale slept over, even if his parents insisted on his staying in the guest bedroom (“So he didn’t bother Crowley”). He especially liked it when Aziraphale crept to his bedroom after everyone else was asleep. But he didn’t like it when Aziraphale had bad dreams. He listened to Aziraphale’s steady breathing, and then asked in a tiny voice, “What were you dreaming about?”

“Hmm?” Aziraphale squirmed and blinked at him.

Crowley turned back to face him. “Your bad dream. What was it?”

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s lower lip quivered. “I dreamed we had great big wings, and we were flying so high we could touch the stars!”

“That s-sssounds like a nice dream, though.”

“It was.” Aziraphale’s eyes went huge and tearful. “Then somebody cut your wings off, and you fell down! All the way down, and I couldn’t catch you!” He surged forward, hugging Crowley tight. “I didn’t like it.”

Crowley hugged him back. He crawled under the blanket with Aziraphale and cuddled into him. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m s-sstill here. And see?” He raised a finger to point at the faintly glowing ceiling. Aziraphale peeked out, following his hand. “We s-ssstill have the s-sstars.”

A tiny smile bloomed across Aziraphale’s face. He reached out for the star stickers, as if to grab for them, and then grabbed for Crowley’s hand instead, pulling it close against his chest.

“You’re my best friend,” he mumbled, and then yawned. “I wouldn’t trade you for all the stars in the world!”

Crowley watched Aziraphale fall back asleep. There was something in his chest, like his heart hurt. He didn’t quite understand it yet. He pet Aziraphale’s curls and then settled down next to him again. “You’re my best friend too,” he whispered. “I would give you the whole world. Even the stars.”


End file.
